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The workes of Beniamin Ionson
About this Item
- Title
- The workes of Beniamin Ionson
- Author
- Jonson, Ben, 1573?-1637.
- Publication
- London :: Printed by W: Stansby, and are to be sould by Rich: Meighen,
- An⁰ D. 1616.
- Rights/Permissions
-
To the extent possible under law, the Text Creation Partnership has waived all copyright and related or neighboring rights to this keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above, according to the terms of the CC0 1.0 Public Domain Dedication (http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/). This waiver does not extend to any page images or other supplementary files associated with this work, which may be protected by copyright or other license restrictions. Please go to http://www.textcreationpartnership.org/ for more information.
- Link to this Item
-
http://name.umdl.umich.edu/A04632.0001.001
- Cite this Item
-
"The workes of Beniamin Ionson." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A04632.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed June 23, 2025.
Pages
Page 660
A peck of coales, or so, which is cold comfort, sir.
MAM.
O my voluptuous mind! I am iustly punish'd.
FAC.
And so am I, sir.
MAM.
Cast from all my hopes—
FAC.
Nay, certainties, sir.
MAM.
By mine owne base affections.
SVB.
Subtle seemes come to him∣selfe.
O, the curst fruits of vice, and lust!
MAM.
Good father,
It was my sinne. Forgiue it.
SVB.
Hangs my roofe
Ouer vs still, and will not fall, Ô iustice,
Vpon vs, for this wicked man!
FAC.
Nay, looke, sir,
You grieue him, now, with staying in his sight:
Good sir, the noble man will come too, and take you,
And that may breed a tragoedie.
MAM.
I'll goe.
FAC.
I, and repent at home, sir. It may be,
For some good penance, you may ha'it, yet,
A hundred pound to the boxe at Bet'lem—
MAM.
Yes.
FAC.
For the restoring such as ha' their wits.
MAM.
I'll do't.
FAC.
Ile send one to you to receiue it.
MAM.
Doe.
Is no proiection left?
FAC.
All flowne, or stinks, sir.
MAM.
Will nought be sau'd, that's good for med'cine, thinkst thou?
FAC.
I cannot tell, sir. There will be, perhaps,
Something, about the scraping of the shardes,
Will cure the itch: though not your itch of mind, sir.
It shall be sau'd for you, and sent home. Good sir,
This way: for feare the lord should meet you.
SVB.
FACE.
FAC.
I.
SVB.
Is he gone?
FAC.
Yes, and as heauily
As all the gold he hop'd for, were in his bloud.
Let vs be light, though.
SVB.
I, as balls, and bound
And hit our heads against the roofe for ioy:
There's so much of our care now cast away.
FAC.
Now to our Don.
SVB.
Yes, your yong widdow, by this time
Is made a Countesse, FACE: Sh' has beene in trauaile
Of a yong heire for you.
FAC.
Good, sir.
SVB.
Off with your case,
And greet her kindly, as a bride-groome should,
After these common hazards.
FAC.
Very well, sir.
Will you goe fetch Don DIEGO off, the while?
SVB.
And fetch him ouer too, if you'll be pleas'd, sir:
Would DOL were in her place, to pick his pockets now.
FAC.
Why, you can doe it as well, if you would set to't.
I pray you proue your vertue.
SVB.
For your sake, sir.